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tftoiwk ~ W3 


H.Robeffc Cowles 
James Cm^cner 
John W. Piston 
Stephen Nease 
Csrt Poccck 

V\\\\\\\\\v. ■•■_ ■ ■■"-.■■-■■ \\v\\\\ww\\\V 

$e cff cat ion— 

To %• -fellow* wh^ h*^ Ml 

Our clan and jLasim Ktedrew? M<?i£? 
to tl« tlij«?ir pert iti tmsrvuifc, lh* -(Wdcm 


You who will read this book will judge the 
literary efforts of the Rhetoric class of 1943, 
But you will find interwoven into them the in- 
fluence a year of war has had upon us. You will 
learn from these pages our thoughts, our beliefs, 
our ideals. You will find revealed a portrayal 
of our real personalities. For the Greenbook is 
not merely a record of the group: it is the 
expression of each one of us who make up the 
Rhetoric dass of 1943, 


hat radical changes c«n occur among a group of 
people within a short period of time! 

The freshman class of 1943, the largest ever to enroll 
at Eastern Nazarene College, is a veritable representation 
from many different parts of the country. Some of ua are 
preachers' sons and daughters. Others of us are not. Yet 
we came here knowing that in this place we would find the 
Christian fellowship that we sought. Here we could prepare 
for lives of service for our Master. 

We have made friends, some of whom we will cherish for 
always, and others with whom we will undoubtedly lose con- 
tact. Already our lives have been broedened. Like clay 
which is easily molded we have received the impress of the 
new, many-sided college life. 

Even in this period of strife when our nation is in- 
volved in this inhuman struggle, we have found at college 
peace, security, and food for our minds and souls. C 0( j 
our Maker has enriched our natures. 

From the beginning our boys have been receiving sum- 
mons from Uncle s am to join either the Army or Navy. We 

know, however, that in spite of this tragedy in which the 
best of lives may be sacrificed, God still reipns. His 
will be the victory, for our cause it is just, 

Most of us were for the first time on our own, away 
from the guiding influence of our parents. Moreover, 
during days of strain such as these are it is impossible 
to proceed without a firm hold on Christ. W e have come 
to understand what Christ cnn mean to us as individuals 
and to us as a group. 

In our freshman year, encountering the difficulties 
that are bound to face very new student, even in time 
of peace, we have always found it expedient to take our 
every problem to Him who has been our Guide and to whom 
we look ever upward in faith. 

As the year draws to a close, we know that we have 
reached only the first milestone. Now our task is to 
strive onward, growing in wisdom both mental and spiritual. 
w e feel prepared for our next year, and with God as our 
able Commander we proceed with glad hearts, yet with hearts 
that realize our utter dependence on Kim. 


Editor. Helen Conser 

FJssisiant EJUor Oarw Payne 

Literary Editors M irim PsrK 

VJa)hce Dixon 

Rft Editors Vernon Curry 

Pm} LockhdtT 
f-ezaiure Editors. . . . Stephen Averse 
I . r . Alberts 8etis 
Humor to it or Ray Chsttette 

Photography Editor. L e)$nd Davis 

Dusiness Managers, X d/ vin Maybury 

John r/ams 

Typists Agnes Browne 

Eunice Grosse 

Grace V/hlie 

Ju<3 niia Thorpe 

t to Kir ftMativis 

Dana Pay ME 

Speech ~ Reug-ion - Want — F^ar 
Behold, & land where people du^el) oppressed, 
By harsh imperial minds and fancies ruled, 
A land where sta))<s the skeleton ca))ed Death 
Who uuie/ds the su>ord o'ev each despairing neod 
And ho)ds each creature in his Tearful poiuer. 

One master here ufi)\ speak {or a)/ the horde 
Of m*d disciples — they that mimi-c )oud 
His V/oice, alihouoh tbey trembling stand, 
And bear him bomacie., cvymo , Hai). u^ben Hiey 
P^r only malice in the'»r he-art foulard himj 
C/ne master speaks, and the^e be none stout 
Who dare ©am say h» s uuords. 

Here churches, dedicated to the |ov/e 

Of God and to H\s G~)ory stand £or)om, 

Neplected, emptied of- the throne that once 

JLh worship kneeled, adoring Christ Hie Lord, 

The &r\e Who formed thewi Trom fhe dust, Who bent 

Xyi wondrous Pttv bo redeem the woirld. 

No (ovinO pastors rnsv attend tVieir flock 

Of humble -members, nor vnay they proclaim 

Grod's deathless Word, Worn Holy Scriptures Co))ed, 

The Master of this Uud averts in bc]d 

And brazen accents. Healths i>iate is \icur 

Kejigjon and your ©pd- yea, move— behold, 
I am the Stale/ 

ressed but in rags tte timj children play; 

U r c ^ ^> e a out in yaps me tt 

The clothes for them 'intended sH are senf 
A^ay to clothe ft?e soldiers at "the front. 
Tney look for food Bnd find a crust 
Of bread^ a piece of cheese } or tasteless soup, 
Thevr qscvo -forever paler, -Hiin each dav 

What -future -nation u;i|f be built upon 3 
5tarved child ? What country can withstand 
The scourge of tuant T 

Put ujhy do people boto HieiVonce proud beads 

Xn homage to 4he one fhevr fhus abhor ^ 

what poujer mysterious binds them in fhese chains 

And -turns their h^pe -to miserable despair f 

Xt is the mighty god, the pod of Fear, 

rea\r rr>akes them knee) before his nltar high 

And offer him their Sacrifice of Uf e \ 

rear makes them shni?d before 4he scepter held 

b\j that a))- potuevfut Master of the state; 

Fear makes them all obey his har&h commands 
And offer no r<?si stance to his power. 
Thar spirit dulled, their 5ou) insensible, 
Tbev ujande<* or?, and ©rope for some escape, 
Some respite -from the awful reign of F-ear. 

Yet in our Und we know* no chamino rules 
Tbdi: makes us auiet the longings of our heart •> 
We are nor -forced "to bow to human )opq. 
Bu-t toe can worship 3S we deem itr best; 
We haue our tables spread with plenteous food, 
And we are clothed i'rj comfort and in style; 
We know no ewsfai/evneofc bw the cod of Fear: 
We hai/e our ^Pirit and our sou) <bti)) firee. 

I"t is this Icey of Freedom that Unlocks 
The dooir that opens ro a better world. 
Aw u;e shall know a world of peace and loi/e 
When every land has been at Jastset tree. 

Dear Prof • Spangenburg, 

With the middle of the week comes the Writing Muse 
urging me to pen a theme or a letter. 

My first two weeks in the N a vy have left me feeling 
contented, healthy, and enthusiastic, ^b& quality of 
self-reliance developed at 8. N. C # has helped me greatly 
to adjust myself to Navy life and routine. Here we are 
taught self-reliance, independence, co-operation, disci- 
pline and cleanliness. If anything can be said about 
the Navy one ccn say it is clean. 

Someone has said that civilization is only a thin 
veneer covering the animalistic element of man. I found 
this observance quite true in regards to chow. Hungered 
by continuous marching and drilling, the new recruits 
attacked their food savagely, 

Marching especially appeals to me, The sharp com- 
mands of the chief ^etty officer, the rhythmic tramping 
of feet, the co-ordinated swing of arms and legs, the 
even rows of men and the martial strains of the band 
create in me a strong enthusiasm for order and for action, 

The sole essence of marching is to create the ability to 
receive and like discipline, keynote of all military life* 

It seems I have written about enough, I hope my 
literary blunders have not been too injurious to your omi 
literary finesse. 

Your former pupil, 


Dear Prof, Span, 

Since the first wave of homesickness has passed over 
me and disappeared, I feel I may attempt to write you with- 
out distorting too severely the view of army life. 

Camp McCain is a new place, having been started just 
last October, and since I am among the first of the rookies 
to come here, you probably have heard little or nothing 
about the place. Being new, it hat n't all the conveniences 
of a veteran camp, but the facilities are adequate. It is 
located in the north central part of Mississippi and was 
named after Major General Henry P. McCain of ^orld War I 

I do not regret the semester I spent in college. 
There is a distinction given the college student which will 
have a direct bearing on his success at army life. Coming 
directly from a Christian home to this lonely, worldly life 
is not easy unless one has some intermediate step like being 
away at school for a semester. 

Your ex-Rhetoric student, 

\MV$ \y£|0 m f^Wrtrit 

Violet Adams 
Esther Anderson 
^aul Andrews 
Ruth Bass 
Dick Beck 
/lberta Betts 
Agnes B r o-wne 
Garcia Carlson 
Ray Charette 
Bob Clifford 
Helen Conser 
Robert Cowles 
James Crutcher 
Vernon C U rry 
Leland Davis 
^arriet Dickinson 
^nlle.ce Dixon 
1-Iargaret Dunlap 
David Eby 
F red Evans 

Innocents Abroad 
Glenna Collett 
The p athfinder 
Orphan Annie 
Daddy Longlegs 
Dolly Madison 
Emily Dickinson 
Kate S m ith 
Daniel Webster 
David E-arum 
Little J'va 
Nathaniel Hawthorne 
Teddy Roosevelt 
Rockwell Kent 
Stephen Foster 
Henry Aldrich 
Harold Teen 

Ann France 
Eunice Grosse 
June Hamilton 
John Earrie 
Jo Lanpher 
Paul Lockhart 
Ever son Love joy 
Vivian Lucas 
Phoebe Lusk 
Carol Maddox 
Calvin Maybury 
Fay Mitchell 
Stephen Nease 
John North 
Miriam Park 
Dana Payne 
Irene Plant 
Carl Pocock 
John Preston 
Frances Rogers 

Clara Barton 
B. Fairfax 
Ann Rut ledge 
John P. Jones 
Helen W, Moody 
L. Tibbett 

Innocents -Abroad 
Myra Hess 
Betsy Ross 
John Smith 
Huckleberry Finn 
A. Gardner 
Dorothy Thompson 
Prof. Karle 
Jo March 

Paul Rogers 
Margaret Shaw 
Gilbert Sterling 
Leona Staten 
Ray Stewart 
Dave Strack 
Eleanor Sunberg 
Alma Swenk 
Bill Taylor 
Jean Thome 
Juanita Thorpe 
Ethel Turpel 
Robert Utter 
Martha Watkins 
Cornelius Whetstone 
Gay White 
Beatrice Wool 


Molly Pitcher 

Baby Dumpling 

Innocents .Abroad 

Woodrovr Wilson 

Daniel Boone 

Helen Jepson 

Tillie the Toiler 

D wight Moody 

S. V. Anthony 

Cornelia Otis Skinner 

Whistler's Mother 


Olive Oil 

Patrick Kenry 

F. Perkins 

Mollie Stark 

"^Wfirti^W, D6. 

t was late afternoon 
in Washington. As the traveler 
views the national capitol build- 
ing silhouetted against the evening 
sky, a thrill shakes his soul, a 
feeling of protection engulfs him as he gazes at the mag- 
nificent edifioe towering toward the heavens. 

As he draws nearer to the capitol and can distinguish 
its tall columns and large doorway, he notices the people 
running up and down the steps. The person hastily fleeing 
down the steps and jumping into his parked car is very 
likely a senator or a congressman. 

Looming up behind the capitol is the Washington mon- 
ument, beautiful standing there alone. As dusk creeps on 
he seas a dim red light flicker in one of the small windows. 
Trudging along for a while he walks up a pathway leading to 
the famous Washington Monument. How tall it seems as he 
draws nearer. Five hundred and fifty five feet are quite 
an altitude as he stands at the base looking up. 

People walking in and out of the door of the monument 

laugh and joke among themselves. Venturing in, the traveler 
enters the elevator and starts going up-up-up-still going up. 
Then suddenly he feels as though going down, but actually he 
is at the top and the gate opens, admitting him into a small 
square corridor of which the elevator is the center, 

There from the top of the monument the whole of Washington 
spreads out on all sides. From one window, which seems rather 
large now, he sees the Potomac river. To the left is a map- 
like view of the city itself. From another window he sees 
the c°pitol and from the fourth the Lincoln Memorial. This 
is how Washington appears to the birds, While standing there 
looking down upon the greatest city in the world, he thanks 
his God for the privilege of living in a country so rich in 
history and ideals. 

After ooming down from the monument he heads toward 
another superb building, the Lincoln Memorial, He notes the 
light burning inside, and as he ne^rs the Memorial he catches 
the outline of some great man sitting in a huge chair looking 
down upon the visiting people. As he approaches still nearer 
he distinguishes the features of our ex-president Abraham 

Lincoln, who appears to be alive. His eyes look sym- 
pathetic from one angle, but almost stern from another. 
The changing expressions on Lincoln's face absorb him 
for nearly an hour before he turns and walks out into 
the city of whit 9 marble, bethel in moonlight. 

Vhat you want in Washington is to have a city 
which everyone who comes from &aine, Texas, Florida, 
Arkansas, or Oregon can admire as being something finer 
and more beautiful than he had ever dreamed of before; 
something which makes him even more proud to be an 
American. — Jemes Bryce 

-><- jl he newspaper headline 

* "Biagara Frozen for First Tiaie 

in Years n reached father on 


Wednesday. Within a few min- 

ut9s he decided to take a trip 

to see it himself. On Friday morning the family boarded 
an early train for Niagara Fall3. We arrived on a crisp, 
cold Saturday morning. The sun's rays blinded us as they 
danced upon the frozen crusts, but soon we became accus- 
tomed to the brightness. As we walked to the falls, the 
hard packed snow crunched under our boots. 

Suddenly we beheld a park with glas3 trees. Surely 
they could not be real so beautiful were they as the sun 
touched their branches and set them ablaze. Yet they were 
real trees. The mists of the falls had draped the beauti- 
ful icy mantle over them. Walking between them, we heard 
them sigh softly under their stiff adornment. As we gazed 
across the broad expanse from the falls to the other lesser 
falls and to the Canadian falls we noticed the width of 
the mighty river now locked in Winter's ice. 

We soon descended by elevator to the tourist house 
at the bottom of the falls. First tire -warmed ourselves by 
the radiators, then stepped out of the house and walked 
to the bottom of that frozen mountain* 

I shall never forget my thoughts as I stood there. 
A small gush of water still plunged noisily from the top* 
Just one week before I knew the entire precipice must have 
been hidden under a mighty volume of rushing, roaring water* 
Now a mightier Power had stretched forth His hand and com- 
manded, ce still •" All the waters obeyed immediately. 
Intricate designs never seen by man were revealed as each 
current, each leaping plume of water and spray stopped 
where they were and became pure white solids* 

If the Power that held this awful giant would release 
him now, would the ice break away and fall on me to punish 
me for standing on that unsullied spot that the falls had 
jealously and persistently insured against trespassers? 
Here was I, a mere child, jerring brazenly at the grand 
old falls in his weakness by daring to stand there where 
ordinarily his might would have crushed me* 

I truly pitied the helpless giant as from his frozen 
eyes he 'jcatohed puny man pry into his secrets, desecrate 
his favorate spots, and laugh into his face* 

"The Niagara of edifices. "—Horace Greeley 

tv ^^ ^ ^u^y^ 


srael Putnam Memorial 
Park— or as it is more commonly 
known, Putnam Park,— is the pride 
of Southwest Connetieut. H<> 
matter how many times one walks 
through the historic iron gate he never ceases to thrill 
to the thoughts of the countless exciting events which 
have taken place there. In recent years the grounds have 
been made over into an amusement park, but the rustic 
cabins, the tiny lake, the battered footbridges, and the 
ancient cemetery dating back to Revolutionary Days are 
still there* 

Perhaps of greatest interest to outsiders is the old 
museum perched at the top of a high hill* The very air 
of the place is suggestive of by-gone days. One could 
gaze for hours at the beautifully hand-carved cradles, 
imagine the colonial maidens humming to the whir of the 
rapidly turning spinning wheel, and visualize the thrill- 
ing battles in which the bayonets were the chief weapons. 
The worn money, romantic colonial costumes, the flag 

borne by General Israel Putnam into battle, and the 
artistic paintings, dainty China, and pieces of old- 
fashioned furniture provide ample entertainment for the 
curious information seeker. 

Tearing ourselves away from the treasures of the 
museum we wo Ik casually down the pebble-covered road 
which winds around the park. Suddenly we find our- 
selves at the tiny iron gate of a well cared for 
cemetery. The sunken graves, weather-beaten tombstones, 
and bent over trees remind one of the brave soldiers 
buried there who gave their lives that this nation might 
live and be free. In the middle of the cemetery is a 
tall monument erected in memory of all the soldiers who 
fought in the Revolutionary War. The rusty cannon 
planted in front of the monument presents a grim, forbid- 
ding appearance as if daring someone to molest it. 

Of most interest to the children is the row of 
yawning caves, filled with silvery cobwebs and terrify- 
ing spiders which line the side of the hill. Hundreds 
of weird, yet wonderful, stories h«=»va been told as to 

the origin of these great dens. Some say the Revolutionary 
troops used them to hide and ambush the enemy when they 
came charging by. Others say that they were used as a 
refuge for wounded soldiers. No matter what their story, 
they are among the most romantic of the natural beauties 
of the park. 

^36sC4aj~*-*jl- }ij^C<isajUJ^ 

Of all the mighty nations 
In the east or in the west, 

this glorious Yankee nation 
Is the greatest and the best. 

We have room for all creation, 
And our banner is unfurled, 

Here s a general invitation 

T o the people of the world. 

—-Jesse Hutchinson, Jr # 

PvippU WcfurttwnV Pfcjwty 

he beauty and wonder 
of mountains has always seemed 
to me a symbol of everlasting 
strength, The Catskill mountains 
of New York State cannot boast of 
lifting their peaks the highest, but still they hold for me 
a deeper beauty than many of the haughtier ranges. 

Looking across fields of trembling daisies in the 
Spring, you can see from my front porch the curving beauty 
of the Catskill mountains, stately and serene, spreading 
an atmosphere of peace and contentment about the valley 
below, &ere the trees are light green, but there they 
appear dark and misty with deep dark shadows like folds 
of black velvet clinging to the mountain side. Ascending 
the mountain and viewing it from the lofty eagle s perch, 
we notice the trees forming a carpet with everchanging 
patterns of shade and color, Range upon range of mountains 
lie in the background. Sometimes the farthest mountain 
appears bright and purple and at other times it is but a 
mist* here and there dotting the landscape are cars 

resembling many busy ants scurrying across the ground and 
a toy village with the giant mountain overlooking its 
every movement. Lakes look like so many jewels set in 
some king s crown. 

As evening comes on and the sun begins to set, the 
green of the foliage below turns first gold, then amber 
and red. ?he little toy village is on fire as the melting 
sun bathes all in its fiery farewell. The streams and 
lakes disappear. Soon the long slender fingers of night 
leave their shadowy imprints on the landscape below. 

Breathing in the last full measure of beauty from 
this priceless moment we leave our lofty perch and once 
more wend our way to the dusky valley below. Here and 
there lights are blinking on all over the hillsides, 
looking like millions of man-made stars. The valley is 
hushed with the breath of evening, T ne majestic mountain 
now looms ominous and foreboding behind us. The green 
gown has been changed for one of deep solemn black. Gone 
are the gold and silver lights. Gone are the dancing gems 
of lakes and streams. The wonder and solemnity of this 

purple mountain's majesty holds us spellbound* Holding 
our breath lest wo break the stillness we stand in wonder 
and amazement at God s handiwork. 

'Tie distance lends enchantment to the view, 
And robes the mountain in its azure hue, 

---Thomas Campbell 

\iountains are the earths undecaying momuments .---Hawthorne 

\l\i\] Litwffly eM Jwi'ite for ^U 

^j was standing in Battery 
Park, Across the '.raters, about a 
half mile away, was the object of 
my attention. My whole being 
tingled with the thought that I 
live in a land of freedom. Standing before me in silent 
glory was the Statue of liberty. The murky waters of New 
York harbor gently patted the rocky base of Bedloes Island 
on which the bronze image was placed. As the sun poured 
its last rays upon the statue, it seemed to soften the 
solid metal as easily as it melted the hearts of the observ- 

About me were countless numbers of people. Although 
the spring air was cool, almost every hat was removed in 
homage to this symbol of our democracy. No one laughed or 
spoke. There was silence, disturbed only by the sonorous 
fog horns and tinkling buoys, 

Within a few minutes the gigantic figure began to be 
enveloped in the shadows of the night. Soon I could see 

only the outlines of the statue silhouetted against the 
lights of the city, *n the uplifted arm of the statue was 
the glowing torch of liberty, a simple reminder of the free- 
dom that we of the United States of America enjoy. 

Washington, the state of tall evergreens, 
red salmon, bungalows, aid delicious apples* 
Mount Rainier is its height and the Pacific 
°cean its depth* 

&*•£ ^Ku^ ^[aJJu^L 

rfhite mnrble buildings, clean broad avenues, 
bright lights, many cars, tired sightseers, 

beautiful parks this is Washington, D. c., 

capitol of the U. S. A, 


^hode *sland, the midget state of the 
Union, r ^hr9e hundred year old buildings stand 
as shrines. Even in the busiest thoroughfare 
monuments rise in honor of her early settlers. 

J J Her Green Mountains, marble quarries, 

\ I peacful valleys, nestling sleepy villages, 
S / sparkling brooks, and beautiful lakes make one 
I — j responsive to the majesty of nature in Vermont. 

Maryland, the northernmost state of the 
South and the southernmost state of the North; 
home of famous race tracks and the Chesapeake 
Bay oyster; a hnven for yachters; birthplace 
of the "Star Spangled Banner, " 

Concord bridge, Paul Revere; the Boston 
Massacre; "Sons of Liberty" and Samuel Adams, 
narrov streets and old buildings of Boston; 
Indian wars; S a lem witches; museums, libraries; 
shipping and commerce; Walden, Emerson, ^horeou, 
Alcctt; codfish and baked beans- — all tliese make 
Massachusetts • 

Connecticut has retained the flavor of 
colonial days with its historic parks, rambling 
farmhouses, and tidy, pious villages. *ts towns 
are restorations of those burned by the British 
in the ^evolutionary War, and its quaint museums 
hold treasures of early American days, 

Delaware is the home of the DuPonts, a 
narrow state with a damp climate and rich fi9lds 
of corn and tomatoes occasionally divided by 
luxuriant forests. The highway which stretches 
from north to south is the backbone from which 
radiate roads to rural districts and resort 

(7a<uJ Clytdww 

New Jersey— airplane factories and truck 
farms, busy cities and lazy seaside resorts, the 
state where anything can happen. 

From the lofty buildings of New York City 
to the laden orcliards of upper N e w ^■or'te. State 
weighty prosperity flourishes. Looking through 
the misty haze of Hudson River spray we see the 
pride of all nations coming to dock in New York s 
Harbor. *he rush and whir of defense plants now 
deadens the laughter of ^ew *ork's night life, 
while even the majestic cathedrales are bathed 
in the activity of war. But even a greater 
glory is given her- — the keeping of our very 
symbol of freedom, the Statue of Liberty. 

Ohio, the BB uckeye" state. Sloping hills 
lead down to fertile, green level stretches 
where clean farmhouses dot the landscape. B usy 
cities house factories which produce America 8 
pottery and steel. ^^ , ^^ . 

Pennsylvania, the keystone of the Arch of 
the thirteen colonies, the site of the signing 
""*-\ °** The Declaration of independence, the home of 
the Super highway, the producer of the black 
diamond called anthracite, the state famous for 
its Pennsylvania-Dutch cooking, the mother of 
the world s smokiest city, and the most consist- 
ent Republican stronghold in American history. 

Against a background of monotonously level 
landscapes are the fragrant orange blossoms and 
tropical palms, gilded by vivid sunsets. St. 
Augustine, the Fountain of Y ou th, the Bok Singing 
Tower, and old colonial forts are other historical 
attractions. Q/rAs**" L ]$£lAAs<*s4). 

'• 4;rn/w- 

Maine, state of small towns, summer resorts, 
silvery benches, harbors and shipyards, set 
against a background of fragrant spruce forests 
and landscapes blossoming like well kept gardens. 






rtrtcljaril: Marine 


he men of the armed 
forco3 are being honored these 
days. They deserve all the 
glory aocorded them. But the 
unsung heroes of our country's 
effort are her merchant seamen. To he sure you have 
seen many headlines about merchant vessels sunk and 
crevrs drovmed, but that s about all the average person 
knows about them. Who are they? What are th9y doing? 
Why are they heroes? 

Perhaps no other type of work attracts so wide a 
variety of men. A t> y f fourtaen runs away from home 
and becomes a mess boy on a nondescript tramp steamer* 
A high school graduate on the first tidal wave of free- 
dom seeks adventure on the decks of a sleek motor vessel* 
A college graduate confinently sits for an assistant 
engineer's license. A weatherbeaten old Norwegian be- 
comes a master* A hotel proprietor tires of his routine 
life and qualifies for ship's steward. A drunkard needs 
more money for liquor and ships out as wiper. A strapping 

big fellow with poor eyesight compensates for his failure 
to qualify for the Navy by joining the Merchant Marine. 
Men from every race, class, and profession unite their 
abilities to give America seamen of -whom she has a right 
to be proud. 

Unlike other jobs which demand individuals to meet 
many requirements, going to sea demands only grit. A 
seaman has to be tough. **e has to be able to take it, 
w hen a man comes to an office of the United States 
Merchant Marine Inspectors no one will examine him for 
stamina. He gets his necessary papers, finds a ship, and 
sails, ^e proves that he either has it or does not have 
it when the test is real. *f he keeps his head and does 
his duty when the pressure i3 on, he ha3 the essential 
mark of a true seaman, 

•faking more chances than sailors of Columbus 's day, 
these men sail overloaded steamers and motor vessels 
with a coolness and a skill that should be recognized by 
the people of this country as heroic. Armed only .vith 
make-shift batteries, freighters and tankers have no more 

chance against German subs than did the old Spanish galleons 
with their one cannon against the pirate sloops. Yet men 
ship time and again determined to deliver the goods. 

At my work in the Inspectors ' office I had the oppor- 
tunitjr of interviewing the only survivor of a torpedoed 
tanker, In spite of this dreadful experience, the lad 
remained in port only long enough to get the necessary 

Our seamen are supplying our soldiers, sailors, marines, 
and aviators with food, fuel, and ammunition. They are 
supplying us with oil, cocoa beans, and coffee. They are 
delivering to the fighting men what they need to defeat 
the Axis. As they do all tl-is they are in as great a 
peril to their lives as are the uniformed men, and go about 
their work quietly, efficiently, nobly. Our merchant 
seamen are doing their part well and bravely. Americans, 
they are worthy of our praise. 

^«? <$cam«l taA\\ 

TH^l s ! stood on the crest 
of a hill the rising sun drove 
away the night's shadows. The 
coal mine in the valley below 
"" became slowly visible through 

the rising mist. First I saw the top of the shaft, then 
allowed my eyes to follow a load of coal along the conveyor 
belt into the massive building of faded red on the right, 
known as the "breaker". To the left were the bleak, sombre 
piles of slate and stone which had been separated from the 
coal in the "breaker". The view on the mountain slope on 
the other side of the valley was a direct contrast to the 
slope on the top of which I was standing. 

The floor of the valley and the nearer mountain slope 
were blackened by the banks of refuse material separated 
from the coal. These banks, kno^m to cell miners as "rock 
banks , stand out like huge scabs upon the epidermis of the 
earth. The bank on the left is pock-marked in two or three 
places with con-sh?ped breaches which have resulted from 
the removing of coal far benenth the earth's surface. The 
rains and snows of many seasons h?ve practically filled 

these "breaches." The rock bank offers very little 
nourishment to vegetation, but a few scrub-oaks and 
blackberry bushes have grown up, forming a ring of 
green around these scummy, stagnant pools. 

Upon walking to one of the "breaches" I was 
startled to see a large perch snap a moaquito wiggl^r 
from the surface of the water. * could not understand 
how fish could survive in this stagnant water, but soon 
realized that the number of mosquitoes that are bred 
there were sufficient to feed all the fish that the 
"breach" could hold. Standing on the edge of the 
"breach" I looked to my right and to ray left and saw 
nothing but black rock banks with red wooden shanties 
here and there to give the outside employees of the 
company a place in which to escape the cold winter winds 
and the sudden showers of sumraer. 

now turned about face and was almost amazed at 
the sight which met my gaze. There was a mountain side 
that had not been attacked by man with his steam shovels, 
pnuematic drills, and dynamite. A modern, three-lane 

highway descended the slope. r he mo3s -covered remains 
of an old electric power station stood knee-deep in 
scrub oaks, and here and there a stately pine reared 
its lofty head above all surrounding objects, A 
mountain brook, bordered by fuzzy pus3y-willow trees, 
babbled *nd gurgled its way over the rocks and into 
the conduit under the highway. Standing here on the 
edge of the pool, * could see nature in all its beauty, 
and by a simple turn of the head could see too what 
havoc man s frantic search for fuel has done to the 

landsoap9 - C^^jzM^u, e. ty-Mj&t-^ 

This is the gospel of labor, ring it, ye bells of the kirk! 
The Lord of Love came down from above, to live with the men 

who work; 
This is the rose that He planted, here in the thorn-ourst 

Heaven is blast with perfect rest, but the blessing of Earth 

is toil. 

—Henry Van Dyke 

■froiti Wy? £\fm\*£ L*b$raWy 


'jl he chemistry laboratory 
can change the most self-reliant 
egotist into a fearful, timorous, 
apprehensive creature. 

When the laboratory session 
begins everyone is in high spirits ready for work. As each 
student collects the chemicals for the day's experiment and 
deftly sets up his apparatus, he soliloquizes on the accuracy 
of the results he is sure of attaining. Each vies with his 
neighbors for the most accurate -feigning, Ench is sure that 
thi3 is going to be the most successful experiment he has 
ever performed. 

The work progresses; everyone is sniffing the pungent 
odor characteristic of the substance being made and noting 
the greenish-yellow color of the gas. The sense of success 
is overwhelming. The professor looks on his prodigies with 
growing satisfaction. Then crash! Someone forgets for an 
instant the law of gravity and the chemical composition of 
glass, thereby setting free for the enjoyment of all the 
irritating, choking vapors of chlorine gas. Students at 

neighboring desks gather around to sympathize with the 
unfortunate victim until the professor steps and consoles 
him by designating the orice of the flask as only fifty- 
cents, and reminding him that in order to h"ve a sufficient 
amount of ga6 for later tests he will h*ve only to clean up 
his equipment, repeat the tedious weighings, and start 
afresh, The finality of this statement sends the sympathi- 
zers back to overheated mixtures or reversed reactions. 
Each must work with lightning speed to recover the equili- 
brium and steady flow of gas # 

^here may have been one individual who had self-control 
enough to stem the tide of curiostiy and the inherent attrac- 
tiveness of disaster. He will finish early, clean up his 
apparatus, and proceed to answer the questions. After 
searching through four or five textbooks for results that 
at least resemble his, he pokes through the wast9basket 
for a clue to the uncanny deductions he is forced to make. 

Then, after a consultation with t-vo or threo other students 
and the laboratory assistant, he discovers which chemical 
he substituted for the right one. Having used up all of 

the gas he spent the afternoon making he finds it 
necessary to beg, borrow, or as a lest resort, make 
more. For this poor felloe one can only say, "He 
that is first shall be last." 

Since the laboratory closes at five-fifteen, 
the students who have progressed more slowly usually 
have time to put their equipment away by five twenty- 
nine. One by one they leave discouraged and crest- 
fallen, mumbling under their breath that next time 
they'll do better. 



Let us then be up and doing, 
With a heart for any fate; 

Still achieving, still pursuing, 
Learn to labor and to wait, 
— -- Fenry Wadsworth Longfellow 

~$\p£m V ^ient 


eeply imprinted within 
my memory are images of a typical 
Indian bazaar. To oall it a mar- 
ketplace would be insufficient 
for it is really the nucleus or 

f >A 
heart around which Indian community life exists. 

On approaching it, a strangely obnoxious yet enticing 
odor assails one. The combination of sweet-meats, deeply 
frying in thick, dark colored grease; spicy wafts from hot 
chili concoctions; fruit and vegetable stalls; burning in- 
cense from perhaps some precinct; the peculiar odor of the 
people themselves, the lowest of whose clothing and bodies 
testify to a lack of recent cleansing, in constrast to the 
spotless Brahman, strongly perfumed and generously oiled, 
all tend to repel yet draw us further along. 

Once in the bazaar, our eyes are treated to the great- 
est varioty of scenes, both colorful and drab. Indians like 
bright colors, the loudest of these being donned for bazaar- 
ing. Their ^realth is revealed in clothes and jewelry. 
Women are weighted down with silver anklets, bracelets, toe, 

nose, and earrings, 3 ft satins and shimmering silks are 
the vogue. 

The bazaar is the center of social life. Here young 
and old congregate, chattering, purchasing tidbits, or 
merely strolling up and down the uneven, narrow, dirt roads 
for pleasure. 

In the shop fronts everything imaginable is put on 
display, most articles being partially obscured by a thick 
layer of dust, or looking rather battered and weather-worn 
having been exposed to sun, wind, and rain through weeks 
at a time. Buckets, cooking utensils, stoves, pipelines, 
and lanterns dangle awkwardly from the low rafters, threat- 
ening the heads of all people over five feet, two inches. 
Inside, these so-called stores resemble a junk shop more 
than anything else, goods being stacked about on the floor 
and all closets stuffed to overflowing. Lastly is the in- 
dispensable, fat "bunya" (or accountant), who sits cross- 
legged on his mat in the corner, yelling instructions to 
stupid youngsters, who do their level best to secure de- 
sired articles for sale. T he floor serves as the counter, 

as is well demonstrated when goods are flung out, yards 
at a time, for oustomers to admire. 

The places of worship create another phase of inter- 
est. Natives, their countenances blank or dejected, enter 
and leave the temples, from which issue out at regular in- 
tervals the unearthly sound of gongs, symbols, and weird 
cries, which supposedly lull the hideous stone images to 
sleep • 

So it is that life revolves about a bazaar, I have 
seen one often, I have felt the mystery of one and be- 
come gripped by the reality of the sordidness of the peo- 
ple's fate. As a child, brought up neir such surroundings, 
1 have known a deep fascination within me for the life of 
the Orient* 

$L JE>w\\\w cni ~$~ 

lways there is one bitter 
'drop in the cup of human happiness 
- — the one thing which keeps life 
from becoming too enjoyable* When 
I was very small I was certain I 
had found mine* It had all the human characteristics includ- 
ing a will as stubborn as my own; it bore the impressive name 
of vTilliam James Rutherford; and it occupied the position in 
society of my dear, my only brother. 

As I regard him today, strong and well-built, six feet 
in height, the thought crosses my mind that the age of mir- 
acles has not yet passed when this perfect specimen can be 
the result of the harsh treatment and punishment suffered at 
my merciless hands during earlier years. 

The truth is, when he came along I was too young to 
appreciate babies as babies. However, I found it very con- 
venient to have a diminutive captive to burn at the stake 
in an exciting game of cowboys and Indians. Then, too, he 
substituted very well for a barrel to roll up and down the 
long piazza. But when, accidentally, he rolled down the 

stairs, his consequent vocal rendition, V9ry unlike a 
barrel, brought ail the grovm-ups rushing to the scene. 
From then on this delightful pastime was taboo. 

"Between the dark and the daylight" in our house was, 
not the children's hour, but a period of rush and bustle, 
when appetizing odors arose from the stove as supper was 
prepared-and I watched the baby rebelliously. Everything 
was exciting and interesting out there in the kitchen, 
while I must stay with William. On one particular evening 
we were both extreme ly bored with this arrangement. Sud- 
denly I chanced to remember the fun I had had that morning 
playing in a neighbor's sand box. Although our house could 
not boast of sand, we had a bountiful supply of smooth, 
golden corn meal, ^o think was to act. I obtained the 
carton and poured the entire contents on the rug. At first 
we attempted to construct houses and roadways, but we were 
hampered by the smoothness of the meal which prevented its 
clinging together. Then William discovered that a handful 
flung into the air produced a sight very pleasing to the 
eye. That shower of gold was beautiful as it fell against 

the dark of the rug. 

A strong hand prevented further operations; a strong 
arm quickly propelled me from the room. I got a swift 
sight of William sitting amid a veritable sea of the 
stuff, his gleeful crow rapidly changing to a whimper 
of fright. But he need not have worried. It was * 
and I alone who was punished for the entire affair. 
That is, at that time. %en * got him alone, full 
justice was meted out • 

In spite of these and various other ordeals we both 
managed to survive our early years. Today as a polite, 
well-trained pair, we provide excellent advertising as to 
the value of a strict bringing-up # 

ery few students realize 
that they should come to college 
not only to better themselves, but 
f;ffy% to further the school as well. A 
college is judged by the achieve- 
ments of its graduates as much as by the efficient manner 
in which the courses are presented. It is kno>m that the 
average college student pays only fifty percent of the 
expenses involved in offering an education. We, as students, 
should realize our fortunate position and endeavor to make 
the most of the investments of others by proving ourselves 
worthy citizens in school as well as in later life. We can 
show our appreciation for this institution and its backers 
by receiving from the school the best that it has to offer* 
Society demands living returns from its investments. 

^> o^Wu. 

H >^]_yj^ eace, rest, and quiet. 
Suddenly: "Bender J" Another 
Toice snatches the cry: "Bender! 1 
And a third wrests it away: 
"Bender!" Locks click as doors 
pop open. There is the confusion of many voices, and in 
the hall, a basketball is being dribbled and passed. One 
can heer the spank of the ball as it stops in the receiver's 
hands. "Hey Ken!" someone yells, and the floor ribrates 
under the ensuing tussle. But there is another sound, more 
ominous, end this time from the stairs. "All right, fellows. 
Break it up." With one accord they agree, ^ K., Prof." 
Retreating to their rooms, they argue oyer the outcome, torn 
between prospects of bed or a revival of the frolic. Slowly, 
like a dying ember, the conversation ceases. Bed has won. 

-^W: &>u^^ 

he sermon was finished, 
and the closing hymn had been 
announced* In reverent tones the 
pipe organ began the first strains 
of "Softly and Tenderly," and a 
perceptible change swept over the audience. The evangelist, 
towering above the stately pulpit, stood almost silhouetted 
against the pastel shades of the archway behind him. His 
hand was uplifted in a gesture of invitation. As his eyes 
combed the congregation, he pleaded gently above the 
crescendo of the organ: ^Time is now fleeting, the moments 
are passing*... " A figure broke away from his row, and his 
feet sounded hard against the aisle as he fled for refuge. 
He pressed the altar firm against himself, and shook in 
sobs, ^ome home, come home, Ye who are weary, come home.... 
The swell had not died when another form hastened by* And 
another* Suddenly, there were many feet, and many people. 
"...Jesus is calling, Calling, sinner, come home." The 
final tones of the organ were lost in the muffled voices 
of those praying at the alter* From the midst rose a firm 
voice* *\) God, our Father, we thank Thee*.,. 

jfytmiH ^u*, 



can recall how I walked 
on the dark, spongy earth. It 
gave me extreme pleasure to watch 
the ground springing back into the 
original shape after I had so rudely 
stepped upon it. I enjoyed hearing the crackle of the pine 
needles as I amblod about the hard, firm bases of the tall, 
towering pines. The lesfy arm3 of these trees usually 
beckoned me, and I remember the pleasure I felt when I 
reached my home in the seclusion of the prickly pine boughs. 
I remember too the pain I experienced when I lo^t grip of a 
branch and slid down the sandpaper sides of the tree. For 
days after my escapade I would carry black, rosinous marks 
on the livid skin around my bruised arms and knees. 

I can still picture the height of the sky as I looiced 
at it from a safe distance on the earth. The clear, impen- 
etrable blue shone through the green foliage of the oaks 
and the pines and the birches, making a pattern never to be 
equaled by the hand of man. The sunshine seemed to be 
noisy, for it fell sharply upon the small, round rocks and 
the shiny evergreens. 

I could always scent a fresh sassafras tree as a dog 
can scent a rabbit. I can still remember my delight when 
I saw this tree before me and would dig eagerly around the 
pungent soil to its roots. After muoh toil, I would pull 
off a piece of the ambrosian-like, delicious white meat. 
Its smell and taste were so cloying that even now I long 
for a piece. In nearby bushes the shiny huckleberry and 
blueberry bushes would also tempt me to carry some home. 
Within a few minutes, however, I held only a handful of 
crushed berries with a strong, purplish juice flowing onto 
my once white handkerchief. 

Above me I heard the lively chatter of the woodpecker, 
the arguing of the bluejay, and the melodious sounds of the 
birds unseen. As I looked on the ground, sometimes I would 
see a small bird lying prone. Once, I remember, I borrowed 
my mother's bread pan as protection for a sparrow that had 
breathed its last in my presence. 

After such an incident, I no longer felt the cheering 
sunshine or heard the happy chuckles of the animals and 
birds or cared for the now limpid sassafras root. No longer 

I desired to touch the cold, prickly pine needles, I was 
tired. Night had come. A snake scurried into the bushes 
and sent my feet home at a tempo sat by the accompaniment 
of night s somber music. 

Sweet childish days, that were as long 
As twenty days now.— -William ^ords worth 

How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, 

When fond recollection presents them to view. 

Samuel Wood worth 

Alice, a childish story take 

And wif.h a gentle hand 
Lay it where childhood's dreoms 
are twined 
In Memory's mystic band 
Like pilgrim's wreath of flowers 
Plucked in a far-off land.- — 

Charles L. Dodgson 

-W freedom 

ramp 1 Tramp ! Tramp ! 
Tramp I Tramp ! The weird and 
rythmical sound of marching feet 
approached a 3mall village in 
— "— ^T" ~- Austria* 'Company halt ! Present 
anas !" shouted an officer who was extremely domineering* 
The young, well built soldiers presented their arms with 
quick and deliberate movements, ^-hen they turned and 
entered the village. 

The natives were all hiding, but at a loud sharp com- 
mand to appear they slowly came out of their houses and 
huddled together before the soldiers. There were sbout 
Wo hundred men and women living in the village. The 
major occupation was farming. 

The officer walked briskly toward the people and stood 
before them, he looked at them with cold, steel-like eyes 
and said in a Iwrsh German voice, '*fie want to know where 
the secret air field is that you people are hiding." Not 
a person moved as his cruel, penetrating glance searched 
them for a sign of weakness. The officer walked toward 

one end of the group and pointed at a small, frail man 
who was trembling like the ripples of a lake. He had on 
* small green hat and a bright red tie that clashed with 
his green suit, "YouiJ-take off your hat or I'll have you 
shot, immediately, " The hat toppled to the ground, "Step 
forward, w The lilted man was rudely shoved forward with 
the help of a steel bayonet. ^Tell me where your airport 
is located, and we will spare your life." He flung him- 
self at the foot of the officer and cried, "I will telli 
I will tell 1 -only spare my life. It lies— ovsr-ov-o-ah 
— !" The little man lay in a miserable heap, shot by one 
of the natives of his village, not by the soldiers, for he 
was willing to betray his fellovnaen for his own safety. 
The officer turned away in disgust, and ordered a 
woman out of line. A large soldier grabbed her by the 
hair and put a pistol to her head, "Are you going to 
tell us or do you want to follow your friend over there?" 
The woman never stirred as she kept her lips tightly sealed, 
A silence ensued—. Than the enraged and ruthless officer 
kicked the woman over and ordered the soldiers to fall in. 

He said with an oath, "You people will have till tomorrow 
morning to think about whether you are going to tell me 
what I want to know or else we will wipe out the village." 
With these words the soldiers began to march dovn the 
valley. Tramp ! Tramp ! Tramp ! Tramp I Tramp I— their 
steps echoed through the darkness of the approaching 
evening and slowly died out. 

Early the next morning the sun arose over the little 
village and shone in the quaint, colorful windows of the 
houses. But something was wrong in the village. The 
cattle were hungry, the chores were undone, a mysterious 
quietness prevailed, no life was seen anywhere. T} LO story 
is told underneath the thatched-roof houses. There lay 
about two hundred faithful, patriotio, never-dying villagers, 
who paid the supreme sacrifice for the protection of their 
country. i he officer had decided not to wait until the 
next morning. 

M-^rtla^i irt ^cei?n 

ot far from the village 
■where I have lived for the past 
twelve years is a geological 
ft vA\ phenomena that has interested 


(^&-Jl thousands of scientists and has 
attracted even more sightseers* This phenomena is the 
escarpment that begins in southern Canada, and extends 
across all of New York State, finally breaking up in the 
northern mountains of the Appalachian chain. It is this 
freak of nature that severs New York State into distinct 
parts, and over this precipice roll the waters of the 
mighty Niagara, her roaring voice commanding the respect 
of even the many-throated factories that line the banks 
of the river. 

My father and I had driven over the road that hugged 
the base of the escarpment many times, but not until one 
particular Sunday afternoon in late summer did we see the 
full majesty of the cliff. The view came on us suddenly. 
As we rounded a curve, we saw ahead of us across a meadow 
set between thick woods an abrupt precipice. We could 

but stop and gaze with oaught breath. The vision had 
been touched by a fairy wand that made everything green* 
Pale green mist slightly veiled the darker green of the 
leaves of the maples, oaks, and pines, Pecesses in the 
foliage made deep green shadows. At the base of the 
cliff were huge rocks, deposited there centuries ago and 
covered with a heavy layer of olive green moss that had 
accumulated over the years. Amidst these mammoth rocks, 
dwarfed by their size, was a tiny cottage like the sugar 
candy home that Hansel end Gretel found. A thread of 
smoke twisted up from the story book chimney, weaving 
itself into the gauzy green fabric and casting green 
tints on the little house. The late afternoon sun, 
slanting its rays on the scene, reflected on the leaves 
of the foremost trees and deepened the shades beneath* 

While we watched, we became aware of a vague sense 
of unreality. The cliff seemed like an imaginary vision; 
the trees, perhaps inhabited by dryads, were of the age 
of folk lore and myth: the cottage was a dream house. 
The precipice seemed to hang in the air, to be suspended 

in space. The mist was a sheer green veil that separated 
our world from the ethereal world of visions end dreams* 
The breath-taking ecstasy we felt was the result of a 
fleeting glimpse into the realm of fancy. This was not 
merely a moment of beauty; it was a flight into timeless- 

When the sun had sunk beneath the horizon and twilight 
had fallen, the spell vanished. We were abruptly restored 
to the commonplace events of life. Since that afternoon 
we hesitantly visited the same precipice once more, but it 
was just like the rest of the landscape. And though I may 
see that bluff many times in the future, I know that 1 
shall never again catch its evanescent magic. 

As some tall cliff that lifts 

its awful form, 
Swells from the vale, and midway 

leaves the storm, 
Though round the breast the rolling 

clouds are spread, 

Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 
—Oliver Goldsmith 

^fewpm J^ii 

henever a chapel speaker 
is announced, immediately and un- 
consciously I ask myself, "What 
will be his reaction to the pas- 
sage of time?" 

These chapel speakers represent a great variety of people, 
each having his own method of keeping track of time. From 
the beginning of the school year I have enjoyed noticing 
the numerous ways in which speakers are disturbed or con- 
cerned with how the time flies. 

It is this great concern which has seemed so amusing 
to me, for in the Orient I have been used to an utter lack 
of interest in time, '^he sun is the native's timepiece 
and his guess is generally at least one hour off the mark. 

Among the many people who are so unfortunate as to 
be put to the task of delivering a sermon, a lecture, or 
a mere speech, * have noticed several distinct types. 

There is the small, wiry man who on first taking his 
position behind the pulpit clears his throat and proceeds 
to duck awkwardly from one side to another, peering high 

over the heads of his listeners. He reminds me of a worthy 
sea-captain as he shades his eyes and gazes out over the 
horizon. The speaker's peering is always in vain, for he 
explains to us, "That last chandelier seems to obscure my 
view of the clock. n 

His sermon is underway. Not more than fifteen min- 
utes has elapsed when he suddenly begins his rigmarole of 
ducking and vainly attempting to see the time. This odd 
behavior tends to make me forget his last point. 

There ia the methodical type, usually a portly gen- 
tleman, who pulls out a large watch which he examines oare- 
fully before launching out on some weighty problem. From 
time to time he scrutinizes it, but does not let it inter- 
fere with his train of thought. 

Those who wear wrist watches are ever kept busy 
watohing the time. Perplexedly they glance at their 
wrists and keep their listeners thinking more about their 
actions than about what they are saying. 

Even outstanding personages seem disturbed by such 
an insignificant factor as the flight of time. If they 

were content with being perplexed and did not insist on 
referring to the shortage of time, the assembly would not 
find its passage so disturbing. 

The ideal way for a speaker to solve his problem of 
timing is to prepare his message so carefully that he 
knows how long it will take. ,Vhen it is finished he can 
stop and feel assured that he hasn't overrun his time, 
and yet has maintained a calm atmosphere throughout. 

Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime, 

And, departing, leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of time. 

- — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

There's a time for some things and a time for all 
things; a time for great things, and a time for small 

But all in good time. 

Miguel De Cervantas 


I sing my song of all these things; 

Clouds, silver-spray d across the moon; 
Of star-stream nights, the throb of Springs; 

And swishing tides beyond a dune. 
Of April s rain that gently falls; 

A friendly smile, quick aiding hands; 
B lue twilight, loud ith robin calls, 

^nd One close by who understands. 

iiy world may change within a day, 

Old laughter go from lips and eyes 
And children tremble, cease their play 

A s black wings hover in the skies. 
i hese changes soon might come my way; 

x et still the same my song would be, 
For changes pass, but these things stay 

^o build another world for me* 

fl^uu, £ /&*-— 


Murmured notes that swiftly soar 
To a loud commanding roar 
hearts that break, ideals that fali- 
All these are in the Piper's call. 
•^ome hear his voice with burning he*>rt- 
fc^rch forward, eager to depart, 
tfhile others draw back and delay, 
-fraid to test an unknovm way. 
**ut men must answer, one and all, 
Hhen the crazed Piper gives his call. 

The blazing of the cannon flame; 
A fading voice; a whispered name; 
The pounding guns; a rocket flare- 
All these make up the Piper's air. 
Oh, the million broken hearts that bleed 
The tears the waiting women shed; 
Yet still the ringing echoes thrill. 
From every vale, from every hill 
The heartless Piper shrills his song, 
And the mad dance of death goes on ! 

(la^^ & ^*^ 

Sept. 14, 1942 

Well, Diary, I'm here I It 6 a wet, dreary day. Why, 
oh why did I leave home? From what I hear they are soon 
going to initiate us Freshmen. Wonder if I'll survive? 

Sept. 15, 1942 

L*st night I met all of the faculty at their reception, 
they're all so nice, Diary, that I think I'll like it here 
after all. I guess it was the weether that got me dovm 

Sept. 24, 1942 

* was initiated today and it wasn't half as bad as I 
anticipated. The Sophomore girl I took to the Dugout wasn't 
bad. Ah me-—. Some girl treated Prexy. I think her name 
was Esther Anderson. Guess I'll try to get in with the 
faculty that way. 

Sept. 30, 1942 

Dear Diary, I'm simply thrilled to pieces. Today was 
Rush Day and now I'm full-fledged member of the Sigma Delta 
— .— society! They really take th» word "rush" literally 

around here ! I was dragged all over the lawn by enthusiastic 
members of all three societies till I was so tired that I 
signed the book of the society with the strongest members, 
Hope I made the right choice ! 

Oct. 27, 1942 

We're in the midst of the annual fall revival. I'm 
glad that the Nazarene chwrch has such men as Dr. Powers. 
He really preaches what the world needs today. I feel 
nearer to God than I ever have before. 

Nov. 6, 1942 

Boy! Am I tired. Our Freshman basketball team just 
played the varsity. If all the games at E.N.C. are going 
to be like that, I think I'll sit on the sidelines for a 
few. The score? I can't say for sure, but I know we were 
beaten pretty badly. 

Nov. 19, 1942 

About all I did today was to obey the orders of the 
photographer. Yes, today was Nautilus picture day. Hope 
* turned out well enough to send the pictures home. They 

say the camera doesn't lie though. 

Nov* 20, 1942 

'ell, they v/ouldn t let me stay out of the ba 13 game. 
We played the Sophomores last night and lost again. I 
guess we re the hard luck team around hare, because we 
lost by only two points. S U ch i8 life-—* guess. 

Deo. 22, 1942 

So long, k.N.C. ji m on ny WR y nome t jj ^ j didn't 

get expelled. It s our Christmas vacation. I love life 
here, but it will be good to see the folks again and taste 
some of Itom's cooking. Don't worry, I'll soon be back to 
resume the old grind again. 

Jan. 5, 1943 

Back again and right into the rush of things. The 
folks are well, the eats were swell, and I am about ready 
for another long grind. (Incidentally, Santa sure was 
good to me.) 

Feb. 15, 194S 

I haven't written in you for a long time, Diary, but 

I feel that last night s doings were so wonderful that I 
just have to tell someone about it. Yesterday was Valentine's 
Day and we had a party. I took the most wonderful girl to it. 
Say, Diary, do you believe in love at first sight? 

Feb, 20, 1943 

Tonight I feel pounds lighter. Harry Bansmere, the 
barber, cut my hair down to a whiffle. All the fellows were 
doing it, so I thought I'd better chime in, W a it till Mom 
hears about it. She 11 fix me— ber handsome son! 

Mar. 9, 1943 

No entry tonight, Diary* I've got to write a Rhetoric 
theme in a hurry* 

May 14, 1943 

* think I'll stop writing to you, Diary, My schedule 
is so full that I can t seem to find time to write to you. 
So, until next ye?r when I'll be a Sophomore (I hope), I'll 
have to say, "So long for now, " 


am quite positive that 
of wit and humor, humor is the 
more comfortable and more liveable 
quality. Humorous persons, if 
their gift is genuine and not a 
mere shine upon the surface, are always agreeable companions 
and they sit through the evening best, ^hey hav9 pleasant 
mouths turned up at the corners, '^o these corners the great 
Master of marionettes has fixed the strings and he holds 
them in ^is nimble finders to twitch them at the slightest 
jest. But the mouth of a merely witty person is hard and 
sour until the moment of its discharge. Nor is the flash 
from a witty man always comforting, whereas a humorous man 
radiates a general pleasure and is like another candle in 
the room* 

Wit is a lean creature with sharp, inquiring nose, 
whereas humor has a kindly eye and comfortabl9 girth. 
Wit, if it be necessary, uses malice to score a point--- 

like a cat, it is quick to jump but humor keeps the 

peace in an easy chair. Wit has a better voice in solo, 

but humor comes into the chorus better. Wit is as sharp 
as a stroke of lightning, whereas humor is diffuse like 
sunlight. Wit keeps the season's fashions and is precise 
in the phrases and judgments of the day, but humor is 
concerned with homely, eternal things. Wit wears silk, 
but humor in home-spun endures the wind, ^it sets a 
snare, whereas humor goes off whistling without a victim 
in its mind. Wit is sharper company at table, but humor 
serves better in mischance and in the rain. When it 
tumbles wit is sour, but humor goes unoomplaining with- 
out its dinner. Humor laughs at another's jest and holds 
its sides, while wit sits wrapped in study for a lively 
answer. But it is a workaday world in which we live, 
where we get mud upon our boots and come weary to the 
twilight— it is a world that grieves and suffers from 
many wounds in these years of war; and therefore, as I 
think of my acquaintances, it is those who are humorous 
in its best and truest meaning rather than those who are 
witty who give the more profitable companionship* 


Sis is going with a "Sailor , 

At first it didn't faze us. 
But now the family's talk is full 

Of Sailor s salty phrases. 
We found it rather hard, 

^o follow all his speech; 
For they talk different aboard ship 

Than we do "on the Beach • 
For when the time to eot comes. 

He sings out "chow for food* 
And always stows it dovm the hatch 

Which Grandma says is rude, 
When talking during dinner, 

He talks like other boys; 
Except he calls the lettuce "grass" 

And celery ju3t plain "noise", 
And his salty talk is slangy, 

And hard to understand; 
&e calls the canned milk "iron cow 

And sugar he cp.IIs "sand". 

His many names for coffee 

Are certainly a joke; 
He calls it everything from mud 

To "Joe or plain "Jamoke . 
The spinach he calls "Popeye • 

And Grandma always squirms 
To hear him ask for spagetti, 

He says, "throw me the worms • 
The chicken he calls "sea-gull , 

The ketchup is "red lead , 
^he waffles are "collision mats" 

While "Punk" is mother's bresd. 
Fried fish is "Pedro Pork chops " 

^Saw dust" his name for salt: 
When he calls the pepper "flyspecks 

Ma nearljr calls a halt. 
He sat beside my father 

And needed elbow room. 

He looked at ^ad and said say mate 

Rig in your starboard boom • 

tfe finally caught on though, 

A nd now we re doing fine, 
We say "six bells for three o'clock 

When we are telling time, 
'*hen **a goes to the city f 

Or runs do-'/n to the store; 
•P-nd someone asks us where she is 

We say she s "gone ashore • 
^ister calls a floor a "deck , 

To hear her talk is sport; 
To her a roof s an overhead , 

A window is a port , 
Then too, if something gets "fouled up" 

Or if some new trouble comes, 
And Dad starts to complain, Ma says, 

Now Pa, don't beat your gums'. 
Dnd doesn't tie his tie now, 

Instead he "bends it on , 
White Grandma says the kids "shoved off 

In place of "they have gone • 

Maw says Dad s suit is "ship shape" 

If it is fitting him. 
**ut if it s not so neat she says 

"That lash-up ain t so trim • 
When ^appy goes to work now 

n e says he s turning to , 
While Mother "swabs and never scrubs 

As once she used to do. 
The whole place has gone salty, 

Which makes a lot of trouble, 
For when l.'aw says "come here, Chop, Chop" 

I go there on the "double 

ft ft 

I wish that gob would weigh anchor 

And do just what I think; 
And "point his bow" and trim his "jib" 

And jump into the "drink" 
I'm through "batting the breeze 

And Ringing the blues I'm sure; 
s o for tonite I'll just turn in , 
Cease firing and secure • 


In these wartime days it s not hard to imagine the 

letters "E, N. C," spelled out on the f ronb lawn with 

onions and carrots forming the letters instead of flowers, 

I guess Prof, Baboock will have to change his signs. They 

will now have to read, "An Onion — -American species;" 

Cabbage— Mrs • Wiggs species;" "Fancy Campus tomatoes; 

"Don't break off the corn-stalks; and "Babcock's special 


Cpl, Lowell Crutcher 

Camp Breckinridge, Ky, 
(Rhetoric 1940- '41) 


Today is a day for great celebration. Today is the 
day of days, the event of events, the time of times, I 
am happy to announce that today we had steak for lunch. 
Not the type you have back home fried with onions and all 
the accessories. This is the sad sad story of a gallant 
but defenseless Arabian cow. She had no choice when she 
was swapped off by her master, and the soft, pleading pansy 
eyes had no effect on the G. I, murderers who coolly and 

efficiently slaughtered her, cut her up, and made steaks 
of everything but the tail. 

^hen the announcement was made that we would have 
these golden lumps for lunch, we all dashed for the mess 
hut at 11:30. through the struggling mass of feet, legs, 
and anas, I managed by fair but mostly foul means to gain 
the envious position of third from the front in line. 
Although it took two hands and a real set of molars to 
handle this rugged morsel it was good, being the first 
since we left the States. 

S/Sgt. Nick Yost 
North Africa 

(Rhetoric 1939- f 40) 


Was interested to see Bill F.estrick's picture in the 
greyhound ad in the Camera . Are he and Doris still upset- 
ting each other s digestion? it would be swell to see his 
bald head shining up in an Alpha meeting again, and hear 
some more of his ideas— like the loud speaker arrangement 

on Rush Day of f 39. T he police came over at 6 : 30 A, M. 
and made us shut up. s uch a life • T hen it was police. 
Now it's top sergeants and to. P's. 

Capt. Lester Jones 

(Rhetoric 1957- f 38) 


You ask me where I am so all I can spy is this. About 
months ago after leaving where we were we left for here 
and not knowing we were coming from there to here we could 
not tell if we would arrive here or not, but nevertheless 
we are here and not there. 

The weather here is just as it is at this sepson, but 
of course, unlike the weather we had before we came here. 

From there to here is just as far as from here to 
there. I feel just as I should for the kind of weather here, 
but, of course, I felt all right there for the kind of 
weather there, so there is nothing to worry about on that 
score here. 

The way we came here is just the way everyone comes 
from there to here. 

In short I *m here . 

Your Joe 

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